


Perfect Flaw

by Demon_Wr1ter



Category: Sanders Sides, Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Cussing, Everyone is a designer baby, Genetically modified au, Genetics, M/M, Other, Science, except Logan, science geek Logan to the rescue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-08-27 01:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16693117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demon_Wr1ter/pseuds/Demon_Wr1ter
Summary: Genetic Enigneering has taken the next step within human development.Starting out by removing harmful genes to full out "design-your-own-child".When you can control exactly how your child will look and what strengths they will have, is it really a good thing?Logan Pierce is considered 'lucky'. For someone not genetically-modified, Logan doesn't look or act too bad. He's at the top of his game, his resume screams "HIRE ME" and he thrives to understand how genetic-modification can help expand mankind's knowledge of the universe.... however.... a lot of companies rather hire a 'perfect employee' than a faulty Natural-born human.After failing another interview, Genetic Modification Nerd, Logan is learning that some people are starting to question how much of the human genome can we change until there's serious consequences?[There's gonna be some science talk, but I'll try to keep it simple hahaha, let me know if you're confused... I freaking love talking science!!]





	1. A Chance

“I must say, your credentials are impressive, your level of experience is outstanding, and you’ve really surprised me. There’s just one last thing, I noticed that you haven’t recorded your batch number. I can just write it in right here and we can talk about getting the rest of your information for an official hiring!” The interviewer looked over his glasses with anticipation. His hand hovered over the stack of papers sprawled out in front of him, a pen in hand softly shaking as he waited. 

This was it. Just like the plenty of other times. This was the final question that always kicked Logan in the ass and sent him out on the streets again scavenging for a career. No matter the evidence of his hard work, or the excellence in studies, it all boiled down to this singular moment.

Logan blinked back through his wide-brimmed glasses and steadied his composure as he replied:

“I don’t have a batch number.”

 

The interviewer hesitated for a moment. A small quiver of a joking smile at the corner of his lips, but Logan never broke. Logan never laughed it off and gave his batch number in the end. Logan stared dead-on at the man behind the desk.

“No batch number?” The man cleared his throat. He slowly rose from his hunched posture over the desk and rested his hands on the desk. “Y-you’re a Nat?”

Logan straightened his favorite tie, running a hand down it just to feel the fabric against his skin. He nodded stiffly as he closely watched the eagerness fade away from his interviewer’s face.

“Well then. This is all very impressive,” The man coughed in his mouth as he corralled the papers together, “however, as a pristine company, such as this, hiring a-“ Logan narrowed his eyes at the man, “an unmodified person onto the task force could lead to numerous risks. Not to mention the insurances that are required for us to provide. I feel as though we aren’t the right match for someone of your-“

 

“I understand,” Logan sharply stood as he interrupted, giving a short and curt bow, “Thank you for your time.”  
Logan snatched his briefcase from against the chair leg and reached for the door. His anger and hopelessness were bubbling up in his chest and his poor attempts to swallow it down were not going unnoticed. As the glass door to the office swung open the man behind the desk stood with an outstretched hand.

“Before you go, I must know,” Logan turned back slightly “is everything in these documents true?” The man gestured to the papers that held Logan’s resume and small snippets of his projects he poured his time and money into. Logan gave the papers a soft glance before hardening his gaze on the interviewer.

“Absolutely.” Logan shortly replied and left the interviewer to gawk as the door silently closed.

\--

Modified. perfected. flawless. revolutionary. genetically superior.

Whatever title they chose to give themselves. Logan could care less. 

They were all freaks of nature but children of science in Logan’s eyes. Taking the human DNA and crafting it to our very whim was an intoxicating science that Logan could get lost in for years, in fact, he did. Just the idea of taking the DNA and erasing harmful genomes and/or adding in more desirable ones took Logan’s breath away. Yet here he was. In an ocean of these “humans” and yet, it seemed like the magic of their birth has become unglorified. As long as the science was in numbers and the occasional variable, Logan would immerse himself over and over and over and over…. 

It started off with simple genetic diseases and defects.

Blindness, Deafness, poor eye sight, Autism, Down Syndrome, Sickle Cell… Soon the demand grew and the options opened more; even diabetes, Alzheimer’s, cancer, deadly and/or life-threatening genetic diseases and disorders were being deleted from the genome in a matter of minutes. Lives changed. **LIFE** changed.  
Soon it was less about the longevity of life, but the quality. 

Better immune systems, stronger hearts, smarter brains, faster growth. Little changes were starting to affect the overall creation of life as we knew it. Soon the power used for the betterment of society began to chose what type of society would be born next.

Now it’s all ‘designer babies’. For a couple extra dollars, you get the child you’ve always dreamed of. Genetic charts no longer mattered. A couple with both dominant genes of black hair could easily decide to have a platinum blond child. No problem, no questions.

Everything a parent could only hope their child will or will not inherit was now like a god damn character customization screen in the hospital. Pick and choose your dream child with a press of a button.

It was no understatement to say _everyone_ was modified in some form. Batch numbers would rely how many genes were modified, what system was used, and the approximate percentage of your genome remained untouched. 

Unless, you were a ‘NAT’… or a natural born, unmodified, untouched, raw gene human being.

Logan sighed as he pushed open the doors to the main ‘baby manufactures’ of the world or as they called themselves: GENET-IX

This was Logan’s final hope in stepping foot into a modified-majority employer. Just because Logan could get sick more often, sleep for longer, take time to think, and be more likely to make an error suddenly shot down his dreams of getting a salary job. In the companies’ defense, hiring all the Gemos (genetically-modified people) made more sense. Capitalism, right?

Logan stood in the out-cove of the entrance to the business and tiredly watched people walk past him. Across the street, he made eye-contact with the convenience store cashier, who quickly looked down as they swept the store. Logan cursed under his breath and pulled a piece of gum out of his pocket.

Logan was a rare one. An unmodified that actually looked decent. He always felt like the dimples that would sometimes appear on his cheeks would give him away, but it was not uncommon for even a simple blemish to be squeezed into a Gemos genes for the sake of the parents’ aesthetics. Logan got lucky shots in the roulette of genetics, inheriting his fathers wide but narrow stature, but his mother’s dark and thick hair. He was told that he had his grandfathers’ eyes, deep and settled brown. He was often mistaken for a Gemo.

If only he could get his hands on this so called ‘public’ genetic technology, Logan felt like he could really ramp it up and go far beyond just human modification. Possibly even looking deeper at not only how to extend life, but decipher death.

Logan bit the end of the gum and slid the wrapper off, shoving into his pocket with a gruff of anger. He let the gum hang from his lips as he stared out at the pouring rain that danced on the cement.

_What an awful day_

Logan’s piece of gum was yanked from his mouth.

“I thought they got rid of all the smokers around here- oh my bad.” Logan turned to see a shorter man clad in black shyly offer the remaining half of his gum back to him. “Sorry. I thought that was- I just- My bad- I didn’t-“ The man stumbled for words. His early confidence drained after realizing his misunderstanding.

“It’s fine. And there’s still 10% of the population that does smoke, but it’s thankfully decreasing.” Logan took the gum from the stranger, looking it over, before deciding that it wasn’t worth the trouble and popped it into his mouth.

The stranger gave a nervous chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck. Logan chewed on his gum for a bit, observing the bystanders before finding his eyes gliding back over to the smaller man. The young man hadn’t move from his original spot. After watching him for awhile longer, Logan saw the stranger steal a few nervous glances at him.

“May I help you?” Logan finally broke the silence. The man jumped when acknowledged and stood a bit taller from his slouch.

“I-um actually, I was wondering,” The dark themed stranger struggled with his words as he waved towards the doors of GENET-IX, “Do you work here?”

Logan couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow, oddly amused that the man would assume that he would have a position in the business. Honestly, Logan would have a seat in the office if he had a stupid batch number. He theorized that he was mistaken for a Gemo again. Logan sighed and shook his head.

“No. I currently do not.” Logan spoke evenly, returning to people-watching.

“Currently? Like, did you just get out of an interview ooorrr~” The man shifted on his feet as he spoke.

“I’m afraid I don’t know you.” Logan bluntly replied, extending a hand, “I am Logan Pierce.”

“Oh! Yeah, um… I’m Virgil. 10-DEX-92.” Virgil, as the stranger said, hurriedly shoved his palm against Logan’s. The icy touch of Virgil’s hands made Logan jump slightly, but he made a conscious effort to complete the handshake before warming his hand in his pocket.

“I hope that you have not been giving a batch number as a last name.” Logan attempted to tease Virgil.

“Oh! Yeah, my bad… I’m Virgil Blake.” Virgil corrected himself, shrinking into himself once more.

“Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Blake.” Logan replied. “And, yes. I just finished an interview.”

“Just call me Virge.” Virgil gave a small smile, “No need to be so formal.” He mumbled afterwards.

Virgil, once again, rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes flickered from the ground back to Logan.

“Well, uh, hope you get the job.” Virgil gave a shaky thumbs up.

“I’ve already been denied.” Logan answered.

“Oh.” Virgil looked at his feet.

“Do not worry, it wasn’t because I wasn’t efficient enough in my work.” Logan tried to ease out of the awkwardness that swam around them.

“So, like… does that mean you know about genetic modification and all that?” Virgil seemed to perk up at the possibility.

“I have a doctorate in Genetic-Biologic Sciences if that’s what you’re describing.” Logan clarified. Virgil was overjoyed by the news, it appeared. 

“Really?! Oh gods, yes! This… FINALLY!” Virgil suddenly squealed with happiness, his face lightening up. He made a small fist pump action then grabbed Logan’s arm and began to pull him out into the rain.

“WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Logan tried to pull away from Virgil, stumbling as he lifted his briefcase to shield himself from the downpour. Virgil’s grip only tightened and his strides got wider as they crossed the street.

“I’ve been looking for someone in that field!” Virgil spoke over the roaring rain, “My friend needs help!”

“I’m sorry, what?! I’m afraid I don’t have the tools required to do a genetic modification, nor do I know the circumstances of this ‘friend’ of yours!” Logan yelled back, getting frustrated by his current situation.

Logan yanked one last time to get his arm free of Virgil’s grip. Virgil suddenly halted and spun around, giving Logan a small squeeze.

“You don’t get it… Something is going on. The big companies aren’t saying anything cause it’ll ruin everything as we know it. People are dying because they fucked up!” Virgil harshly whispered at Logan, a blazing flame of determination burned behind deep indigo eyes.

“What are you talking about?” Logan tried to get an explanation.

 

“We don’t know a lot other than: It has something to do with genes and…” Virgil scanned the space they occupied, “It’s killing perfectly healthy people. Just. Like. That.” 

Logan’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if he could really trust a stranger… let alone one that just randomly walked up to him and started to drag him around after finding out his degree.

“We’ve got all the tech you need. We just wanna know what the fuck is going on. You can just write a report and walk off. We won’t say a word, no one will know that you were involved.” Virgil finally let his hand drops, “It’s just people are dying within three days of showing symptoms. It just… It isn’t right. All the ‘big hot shots’ won’t help. They look like they know what’s up but are too afraid to say anything. We’ve had other people look at it, but they either end up running off after figuring it out or…. Dead.” Virgil stared at Logan for a moment more before busying himself with the landscape around them.

The rain slowly decreased, now a soft patter at their feet. The small covered area they found was dripping from the previous pour. Logan thoughts rolled around in his mind like a bag of marbles let loose. His eyes jerked left to right to left again. He thought of all the outcomes. He thought of all the information, although small and unconfirmed, he had received from Virgil. Did he really have a reason to say no though? What else was he planning on doing? 

The interview was a flop, he had no plan, he was doomed to work at a bookstore or stupid gas station for the rest of his life all thanks to his lack of batch number. But right in front of him laid an opportunity to get his hands on something he _actually_ wanted to do. Better yet, Virgil already saw him as a Gemo and didn’t bother to ask for his batch number before getting him, somewhat, involved…

“Very well.” Logan choked out. He stood tall and ran a hand over his tie.

“What?” Virgil was caught off guard, understandably.

“I’ll help you. Lead the way.” Logan reiterated. Virgil looked surprised.

“Seriously?” Virgil started to say, “I mean. I know I messed up the whole plead for help by dragging you halfway there, but you’re serious? You _want_ to help us?”

“I’m always serious,” Logan offered a small grin, “I wear a necktie.”


	2. Log 1: How it begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil is able to talk Logan into coming with him to his 'secret lab'. Logan rolled his eyes so hard when he heard that term, he was surprised his eyes didn't roll out of his head. Figuratively, of course.

Logan had no clue what came over Virgil to even pretend as though his ‘secret location’ was emotely within walking distance. It was about twenty minutes of walking before Logan found himself becoming skeptical. His hand twitched against the handle of his briefcase. His whole body ached from walking in stiff interview clothing and his briefcase wasn’t particularly light either. 

Slowly the scenery began to shift. The walls of buildings began to smooth out, more windows reflected around them, colorful lights danced against any surface, crowds thickened the further they went, the commotion, the sounds, yes indeed; Logan noticed the changes. After another few careful steps behind Virgil, Logan came to a sudden realization.

“This is Oasis.” Logan abruptly said as the thought dawn on him. He lifted his head and scanned the surrounding area. High class Gemos strutted about as the roads stopped and the people roamed the open space lined with business and the few scattered trees. This was the world of highly modified Gemos, usually within the 10-35 percentile range of **NON-modified** genes. 

The human body only has about 24,000 genes, only 22,000 are allowed to be modified, for ‘safety concern’ reasons. The most ‘important’ thing people listen for is the first number of someone’s batch. The higher that number is, the better. The percentage at the end, including the untouched 2,000 genes approximately, would be very low, but also redundant. It wasn’t odd for someone of high modification to only say the first number of their batch and the system used to modify them. Leaving out the percentage just made more sense for the common civilian, but to some like Logan, percentages were important. 

“Good ol’ Oasis.” Virgil grunted as his thin, pale hands slipped into his contrastingly dark jacket. Logan recognized Virgil’s posture as that of a nervous teen. He would have humored the reaction to being in Oasis if he didn’t feel some form of nervousness as well.

Logan, instead, surveyed the people they passed.

Colorful in so many ways. Unnatural colors of hair, eyes, and even skin. All of it blurred past Logan as the awkward duo continued their journey. Green hair, pink eyes, ash grey skin, Logan shuddered at the misuse of genetic modification. Why make your children look like poorly designed alien characters to begin with? Logan felt as though genetic modification has stalled in a way, now allowing such revolting, flashy changes to DNA just to pass the time until the next big ‘Genetic Update’.

“We’re almost there. Sorry for making you walk so far.” Virgil quietly said over his shoulder as they continued through another large pedestrian plaza.

“It’s of no consequence. Did you by chance walk this far before seeing me?” Logan straightened his shirt collar, becoming very aware of the colorful spectrum of Gemos looking over at him.

“I usually bus hop from business to business. I didn’t mean to go _that_ far, but I’m happy I did.”

“Bus hop?”

“Yeah, ya know,” Virgil shrugged towards thin sign pointing towards the nearest bus stop as they walked past, “take a bus to the next station, then take that bus to the next and so on.”

“Interesting… and why, pray tell, did we not simply ‘bus hop’ to… where ever we are going?” 

“ ‘Cause I don’t remember what buses I took to get to GENET-IX.” Virgil shortly replied and shrunk further into himself.

Logan chose not to push Virgil any further. The poor shorter man already looked out of place against the colorful sea of Gemos as it was. He scanned the area for the third time until he ran into Virgil as the dark-cladded man stopped suddenly in front of Logan.

“My apologizes.” Logan responded to the small yelp Virgil gave out when they collided.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Virgil rubbed the back of his head where it bounced off Logan’s chest. “We’re here.”

Logan paused in confusion for a moment. All that stood before the two of them was a single bush. Before Logan could enquire about it, Virgil lifted his arm and pointed off to the side to a particular building.

The slim design of the building let the tall, thin windows in the front to loom over the simple, but elegant, garden directly in front. It was easily the only building that wasn’t splashed with nauseating arrays of colors. The blank, slim, open building stood at attention, seemingly proud of its isolation from the other seamless display of the other buildings.

“Go ahead.” Virgil started, but added after Logan gave a glance of confusion, “I’ll be right behind ya.”

Logan started his steady strides toward the building, trying to look through the frosted glass to get even a hint as to who or what laid inside waiting. He heard Virgil’s boots scuff against the cement behind him. The moment Logan opened the door, he was immediately attacked.

A strong force slammed into Logan, obscured his vision and caused him to fall back. If Virgil hadn’t held him up, Logan would have collapsed on the ground. The force began to squeeze Logan’s chest, constricting him so tightly he swore he heard a rib crack.

 

“What the-“ Logan’s sharp tone caused the mass holding him to jump in surprise and immediately release him.

“Oh! Oh no. I’m so sorry!” The mysterious attacker stood at full height, a few inches taller than Logan himself, and gave an apologetic smile behind thick curls of caramel hair.

Virgil gave a mischievous snicker as he pushed Logan back onto his feet.

“Virgil! I- oh my goodness. I’m so embarrassed. This isn’t how I usually introduce myself, I’m so sorry, uuhh...” The man before Logan shuffled shyly, freckled cheeks glowing red. He pushed his silver, circular glasses higher up his nose and shoved a hand in Logan’s direction for a handshake.

“Hi! I’m Patton, Virgil’s dad!” Patton’s large grin was coupled by Virgil grumbling exclamation that they weren’t related at all.

 

“Logan Peirce.” Logan introduced himself. He didn’t want to draw attention to how flustered he was as well and gave a short shake to the, surprisingly, warm hand before him.

“We’re just friends.” Virgil stepped past Logan into the house.

“I’ve been told that I’m like the Dad Friend!” Patton gave a playful wink at Logan then turned towards Virgil to give him the large, overexaggerated hug that was meant for him. “I was worried about you, where the heck did you go?” Patton softly asked Virgil.

“I found us a new engineer.” Virgil gestured to Logan. Patton’s eyes widened, Logan almost took it as if Patton was surprised that Logan was capable of being such a thing.

“No way.” Patton breathed out the comment, before shaking himself from the awed expression spread across his face. “I-I wasn’t expecting- I’m sorry, one moment. Virgil could I speak with you for a second?” Patton gave a strained smile to Virgil as he partially dragged his friend across the wide room.

Logan took the moment to observe a chair that was placed by the door then decided to sit after his long journey. He placed his briefcase in his lap and watched as Patton harshly whispered to Virgil. Their conversation was spoken through gritted teeth and wide hand gestures before Patton sighed loudly and glanced toward Logan.

Logan immediately looked to the floor, busying himself with the newly formed scratches and dirt blotches on his dress shoes. He made a mental note to buff them whenever he got the chance. 

“Mr. Peirce-“ Logan stood at the sound of Patton’s voice.

“Logan.”

“Oh! Uh, of course… _Logan_ I wanted to thank you for coming out this far. I’m sorry for interrupting your day, but I truly do appreciate you making the trek!” Patton fiddled with his hands, twisting the ends of the sleeves to his sweater that was tied around his shoulders. 

“To be honest, I had nothing better to do, really.” Logan straightened his glasses on his face. 

It was odd. This whole situation was just… odd. Logan had observed every detail of the interior to the building he stood in, yet he couldn’t think of the purpose to such establishment. There was a small desk in front of the chair Logan had sat in creating a small lobby area immediately after the front door. However, it was the space after the desk that peeked Logan’s interest. Large columns of glowing, beeping consoles stood floor to ceiling humming along undisturbed. The outfit Patton wore was simple, yet semi-formal, the unusual placement of the sweater was off-putting to Logan.

“I’m not going to say this is easy. I’m sure Virgil has told you what happened to the… the last people that chose to help us.” Patton returned his gaze onto Logan. “But if you really want to help us, I really don’t want to turn you away. Lot’s of people are suffering and we just want to know why. If you can give us any clues. _ANY_ …. We would be forever grateful.” Patton laid a hand on Logan’s shoulder.

“Surely, you don’t believe I’m going to change my mind after walking the entire way here. Do you?” Logan firmly asked and readjusted his briefcase in his hand.

“Wait. You walked here?! From where?” Patton’s hand dropped but the tone of his voice rose in concern.

“GENET-IX.”

“GENET-IX!!” Patton spun to meet Virgil’s eyes, “You walked all the way here?! Let me get you some water, I’m so sorry! I had no clue!” Patton raced off to a doorway hidden from view.

Logan exchanged glances with Virgil.

“Is he usually like this?”

Virgil shrugged, “You get use to it.” Then motioned for Logan to follow into the doorway Patton had just vanished into.

The room beyond the doorway was just as unique as the first section of the building. A narrow staircase took the pair down, below the main level, opening to reveal a large open room. Patton was busily working at the kitchen nestled against the stairs, reaching into cabinets and getting cups out to pour water. A large sofa pointed towards the wall-mounted television and a large dining table stood proudly as the center-piece to the room. The walls were covered in artworks and posters. The two doors that barely left visible through the posters, Logan assumed, were entrances to the bedroom and bathroom. It was very simple.

“Come on in! I’ve got your water for ya!” Patton rose the glasses up for them to see then set cups lightly on the dining table. Virgil grabbed his cup and watched Logan scan the room, again.

“You do that a lot.” Virgil commented after a single sip from his cup. 

“Excuse me?” Logan rose an eyebrow in question.

“You do this thing where you,” Virgil gestured loosely in circles at Logan, “you spin around and scan the place like you’re a robot or somethin’. We aren’t gonna hurt ya, if you’re worried or anything.” Virgil brought his cup to his lips after he spoke, but watched Logan closely.

“I just find it odd. You seem to be so insistent that I come immediately and you made it imperative that it was time sensitive, but yet,” Logan paused as he twisted the cup on the table, “You don’t seem to be in that big of a rush then I previously thought.”

Virgil lowered his cup from his mouth. Patton began to play nervously with his sweater sleeves again. Neither seem to make a movement to say or do anything in response until one of the two doors in the room swung open.

The man in the doorway leaned heavily on the frame. Sweat beaded on his forehead and fear reflected in his dark eyes. He struggled with a voice, small whimpers escaped instead.

“Thomas!” Patton started to approach the new arrival, but Virgil firmly stopped him. Virgil replaced Patton’s effort with his own and ran to Thomas’ side. Thomas clawed at Virgil’s chest, finally catching his curled fingers in the fabric and pulling Virgil closer. Virgil struggled to support Thomas’ weight, trying to reposition Thomas’ awkwardly half-limp body into a more comfortable spot.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. It’s ok. I’m back. Hi.” Virgil’s voice scratched, near to crying.

“That’s Thomas. He’s my little brother. He’s the fifth person to show symptoms. That we know of.” Patton waited until Virgil was able to help Thomas stand and slowly limp back through the door before continuing, “He just finally fell asleep before you came. We didn’t want to wake him. It’s been really tough, not knowing what’s going on. All we know is that people of bigger batch numbers are more likely to get… whatever it is. So far, no one’s survived and the longest anyone’s gone after showing symptoms- is…” Patton’s voice wobbled as tears slowly formed in his eyes. He gave a soft apology as he tried to wipe his eyes from under his glasses.

Patton gave a small hiccup and a deep sigh then resumed what he was saying:  
“All we know is that people of higher batch numbers are more likely to get it. They only live for about three to seven days after showing symptoms. We’ve had other engineers look into it, but the moment it looked like they were about to find out what was wrong, they either ran off with the information or ended up getting sick, too. We’ve been trying so hard to help. There use to be four of us that took care of the others… Now it’s just me and Virgil.” Patton rubbed his arms to calm himself. It wasn’t a pleasant life to see the ones you love die one by one.

Logan could understand the pain that danced in Patton’s eyes. All they wanted was answers. A way to cure what ailed them, most likely, but also just the possibility of relief until the inevitable end.

“I’m guessing that you have a higher number than Virgil?” Logan gently laid his briefcase on the dining room table, careful not to hit the two cups that rested on the surface as well.

“20,000-LAN-15.” Patton let the batch number roll from his tongue, detached from the number altogether.

“15 percent untouched?” Logan skeptically looked at Patton. Patton did not appear to be a high-end Gemo. That low of a percent of unmodified genes usually lead to a wealthy family and a completely, horrifyingly manipulated human child, if it could still be called human. The only thing Logan would even guess to be modified in Patton was his height, but even then, it was still only two inches taller than average. Freckles could have been added. His eyes were a very rare and pretty emerald green. Perhaps it was his caramel curls that plummeted that percentage or, Logan nearly shivered at the thought, maybe it was-

“Genetic Diseases?” Logan played with the lock on his briefcase until he heard the satisfying click of it unlocking.

From the corner of his eye, Logan saw Patton startled by his guess. It was obvious now that Patton never encountered someone that could see that correlation between his ‘normal looks’ but high batch number.

“Yeah. I heard they were nasty and a lot of docs told my parents to give up, but they really kept rootin’ for me.” Patton gave a small, humorless laugh at the thought.

Logan hummed in response, lifting the briefcase cover up to reveal his neatly stacked and organized items within. He expertly filed through the papers and reached into one folder in particular. Logan gave the paper a nice flick, set it on the table and soon followed after it into a seat.

“Patton, I have never seen such a thing, never heard of it, never knew of it. The idea that something so big and life-threatening being kept from the public makes it seem all to ‘good-to-be-true’ and possibly fake,” Patton deflated as Logan spoke, “I haven’t even seen any official information or looked at single person who is or has been affected. However, that being said, I’m eager to work with you. So, if you have a moment, I would like to learn more about what’s going on.”

Patton brightened to the change of tone in Logan’s voice. Logan was more than interested at this point, he was invested. What else was there for Logan to do? He rather struggle and fight, but learn so much more than suck it up to the big wig companies. The constant denial of his work and commitment in the Genetic Engineering field has finally revealed his raw nerve, Logan’s untapped knowledge and thirst for more. Logan could basically taste the cold coffee from nonstop, week long, all-nighters and the bittersweet thought of waking up to a paper wad pillow just made Logan scribble even faster as Patton started to speak about the start of the possible end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowza!
> 
> Sorry for the slow updates! I'm happy to hear that everyone is enjoying it so far!
> 
> Don't be afraid to ask questions if you get confused! I'm happy to help clear stuff up (as long as it doesn't reveal something for later chapters *wink wink nudge nudge* )

**Author's Note:**

> well......????
> 
>  
> 
> I've been brainstorming on this AU for awhile now.... I just had to get it out on paper then I thought I would see what others think...  
> questions, comments, concerns? hahah


End file.
